


No Heroes Allowed

by etcetera_kit



Category: Super Sentai Series, 宇宙戦隊キュウレンジャー | Uchu Sentai Kyuranger
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/pseuds/etcetera_kit
Summary: Naaga and Balance are caught by a terrifying Jark Matter-adjacent regime on Earth, when Stinger and his brother cross their paths. Emotions get complicated between Naaga and Stinger, and they find themselves drawn together by more than just circumstances.





	No Heroes Allowed

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when there's a new season of the Handmaid's Tale and staring at my other WIPs gets me nowhere! The regime is very much inspired by the Handmaid's Tale, but the rest of this is my normal Stinger/Naaga trash/lovefest. Also, this is not exactly mpreg -- that is explained further in the story. (Aliens offer us many options, right?) But there was not a better tag. Enjoy!

**No Heroes Allowed**

_Present_

Naaga pressed close to Stinger’s side, heart beat increasing to an uncomfortable race, causing him to shake, breakfast sitting like a rock in his stomach. He’d spent the last year terrified of so many things that this should have just seemed like another terror in a tiresome parade of them. He thought he’d go numb to being scared. But this was not pain or incarceration or someone inflicting a horrifying ideology on him. This was nervousness about meeting people so close to Stinger, going to his home world and being in the places he grew up, the places he still called home. What if his family didn’t like him? What if they were scared of him, disgusted by him, didn’t think he was good enough for Stinger? 

His own home world was devoid of emotions and many other things that other organic societies took for granted. The legend always went that a long time ago, his people had strong emotions that led them into constant war. That much fighting took too precious a toll on their people and they gave up emotions in order to live in peace. They embraced sameness and had begun designing the people to be exactly alike centuries ago. With that same genepool, there was no variation—children could be conceived and born naturally, or through artificial means and incubated in a simulated womb. Naaga had been born in a time of chaos, after Jark Matter invaded their home world and they fled to their colonies. Many children were born naturally during that time, and many people went through reconditioning to ensure that they did not permanently gain emotions.

Sometimes he thought that was what made him different, made him leave when he did.

Stinger’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders, and he felt Stinger tug him closer. The transport rattled and shook around them. Stinger pressed a kiss to his temple. “Not much longer now,” he murmured. “We’ll get to Thread in an hour. Then we can get settled and you can get some rest.”

Naaga tried not to whimper, pressing his face to Stinger’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Stinger asked, voice concerned.

“I’m scared,” he replied, voice soft and tiny. He hated being this way. Gaining emotions had always been something he was interested in, something he wanted. That was part of the reason he left. But then he found himself in a place where he felt emotions all too much and had trouble regulating them, never sure how to even express them. He ended up crying out of frustration all too often, several times a week it seemed. His therapist from Rebellion had seemed surprised that he didn’t experience sudden fits of anger. But Naaga just felt frustrated and scared.

“Of going to my home planet?” Stinger sounded gentle and a little amused.

“Of meeting your parents,” he mumbled. 

“Naaga, hey, look at me.” He reluctantly raised his head, meeting Stinger’s gaze. “My parents are nothing like my brother. I know he terrified you, but my parents are different. They’re kind, generous. They can’t wait to meet you.”

“Really?” He knew he sounded too hopeful.

“Really,” Stinger confirmed. “I had to send them your measurements because they wanted to make you clothes. And then they wanted your favorite colors because they wanted to make you blankets. And then they wanted your favorite things to eat so they could have meals for us.”

“Me?” He couldn’t stop the surprise in his tone. “I thought they’d be making things for…”

He trailed off, but Stinger smiled. “That too.”

The transport gave a particularly violent rattle and Naaga pressed close to Stinger, burying his face against his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. Stinger’s lips were in his hair, both arms around him, soothing him. “It’s okay,” he whispered. When the transport settled back into the normal pattern, Stinger asked, “You doing okay? Need anything? Food, water, bathroom?”

He did kind of need to use the bathroom, but didn’t want to do that on this transport, and he was too embarrassed to ask Stinger to go with him. Which was ridiculous, considering the things they’d done, how intimate they’d been, to get to this state. Stinger said that he loved him, that he wanted them to be together for a long time, perhaps the rest of their lives. He didn’t know why that idea scared him. Why would Stinger say something like that, if he didn’t mean the words? At first, he thought Stinger was saying those things because of what had happened. Maybe he felt guilty and thought this would make things right. That had been the only time Naaga had been truly angry with him. 

Just over a year ago, he and his friend, Balance, been in the wrong place at the worst time. That had only lasted six months, but that short amount of time was enough for everything about him to change. He’d met Balance when the mechanical lifeform had been attempting to rob the Ophiuchus colony. Naaga heard on the newsfeed that they were pursuing a thief. At that time, he wanted change and emotions, and went to see if he could intercept Balance before the authorities. He had. And Balance had allowed him to tag along on his “missions.” He stole from Jark Matter, making the heists dangerous, but full of justice. Jark Matter had been slowly taking over the constellation systems, inflicting fear, stripping resources and oppressing people.

Only a few weeks into their tentative partnership, they’d learned about a Jark Matter-adjacent group who was stockpiling resources on a planet called Earth. The planet was remote, and Jark Matter had apparently let the group continue with their regime because they carefully controlled resources and the people, and, of course, sent a regular share to Jark Matter. What they did not know was that the area had been experiencing an infertility epidemic, and a person like Naaga stumbling into their midst would be extremely valuable to them.

“Come on,” Stinger said, standing up and offering him a hand. “Let’s go see if they have tea in the vending machine. We’ll pass the bathroom on the way there, so we can stop if you need to.”

Naaga took his hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. The warmth in his chest helped dissipate some of the nerves. Stinger seemed to know what he needed without Naaga asking or saying anything. Moments like this made him fully believe that Stinger loved him and wanted to be with him for a long time. Perhaps he was being idealistic or naïve. 

Or perhaps he had fallen in love too.

_One Year Ago_  
Naaga sat stock still in the chair in the corner of the room, head down. The administrator from the training center was an older woman, organic and fully human. She looked stern, and never smiled, always seeming grim. He knew why that was—he couldn’t tell if she fully believed in what this group, Gilead, was doing, but she clearly wanted to do her job and stay under the radar. Which meant conditioning organic humanoids that could bear children into their purpose here—namely having children conceived with high-powered officials to fight the infertility epidemic.

He was not sure how they’d identified him as someone potentially meeting those criteria. Ophiuchus medical records were sealed to other systems. He and Balance had gotten close to the border to scout out some potential targets, thinking this was no more or less dangerous than any other Jark Matter heist. Jark Matter stockpiled resources and treasures, and they could often liberate the resources while retaining enough of the treasure to barter their way into the next heist. Next thing they knew, they were surrounded by guards and overpowered.

In the interrogation room, they said they were sending Balance to do manual labor for the officials. Naaga had seen other androids and mechanical lifeforms used in that capacity. Sometimes he had a fleeting thought of hoping Balance was all right. But then some other horror would start. He’d learned to keep his head down and obey without hesitation. That kept him away from pain. 

So much of the pain happened at the very beginning.

_“I think he’s from the Ophiuchus system. I heard rumors that some of them have both sets of reproductive organs.”_

_“We can send him to a medical exam and find out.”_

How? How had they heard that about his home system? Was someone here a former diplomat who may have traveled there? They still divided themselves into two genders, decided based on a number of criteria, but not absolute. (Especially not if they were in a time of crisis.) But, because of the sameness with no variations in the genepool, it was not uncommon for someone to possess both male and female reproductive organs. For those children, their parents tended to choose one gender or neither, and the person choose later. The Ophiuchus system was much more fluid about sex.

He’d struggled hard against the exam.

_“Just whip him a few times, take the fight out of him.”_

The wounds had still been bleeding when they stripped him naked and strapped him to that table.

Later, at the training center, the administrator would cut his feet, making sure he was in too much pain to run away.

Only three weeks had passed since then. A lifetime. He had never cried before in his life, and he cried himself to sleep every night in the tiny, empty room where they kept him at night.

“This one is fairly unique,” the administrator was saying to the officials in the room. “The identification he had on him identifies him as Naaga Rei from the Ophiuchus System. Incredibly rare to see them away from their colonies.” She shrugged. “Since the Ophiuchus System is not under Jark Matter control or a Jark Matter sympathizer, we could not get any additional information him other than what we have gathered ourselves.”

“He?” the older of the two officials asked. 

“That’s how his identification classifies him.” Another shrug. “Near as we can tell, he can be either if he wants to. I hope that isn’t off-putting for you.”

“He’s not going to me,” the official said. “He’s going to Stinger here.”

“That’s fine,” the one called Stinger replied. “That will make this more… interesting.”

“You always did go for both.”

“Aniki,” was the long-suffering reply.

“He has completed the training program,” the administrator continued. “You should expect full obedience from him at all times. I have provided a suggested routine that you are free to customize, of course. We have found the bearers do better with a predictable schedule.” A pause, “And, naturally, I have also included consequences, should you find that he deviates from orders.”

“The program is very reputable. I do not think Stinger will have any issues.”

“You flatter us, Scorpio-sama.”

“Everything seems to be in order.” Stinger’s voice. The one he was going with. “Let me get him home and settled. He has a very important function here.”

“Of course.” The administrator stood up. “Naaga!” He snapped to attention, head up, eyes straight ahead, seeing through the people in front of him. He slid his eyes over Stinger and Scorpio for a moment, trying not to meet their gazes, look away. In that brief moment, he realized Scorpio was quite a bit older than Stinger, black hair, dark clothes and a cold gaze. Stinger was different, brown hair, actually slightly taller than Scorpio, softer features, more like he was trying to be calculating and failing a little. Brothers, he guessed, but could not be sure.

“Come on,” Stinger said to him, voice commanding but also a little warm. “Let’s go. I think you’ll like my residence—library, movie room. I have a bull android that does maintenance.” 

“You’ll spoil him,” Scorpio warned. “He cannot forget his place.”

“He won’t,” Stinger responded calmly. “But a few creature comforts never hurt anyone.” He gestured for Naaga to follow him and Naaga sprang to his feet, following a few feet behind Stinger. He thought Scorpio and the administrator might follow him, but they remained behind in the office, the door shutting as they continued through the hall and outside.

The sky was gray outside, rumbling thunder in the distance.

Stinger led him to a black luxury car at the curb. A bull android was waiting and opened the back door. “Aniki is still vetting candidates for himself,” Stinger explained as they walked. “He’s particular. He’s the Jark Matter governor they sent here and the locals want to impress.” The bull android ushered them into the back seat of the car. Naaga tried to shrink away, be respectful, as he’d been taught. But Stinger was not like he expected. 

Once the three of them were in the car with the doors shut, the android said, “Partner, we’re clear here. Bug-free.”

“We just need to go home, Champ,” Stinger replied. “I’ll explain there. It’ll be better.”

“Good call,” the android—Champ—replied. “More secure.”

Naaga kept his gaze on his knees, trying not to turn over what they said.

The drive to the residence was short, and Stinger remained quiet. Once at the house, Champ pulled into the driveway and Stinger gestured him out of the car. Naaga tried to keep his gaze down, but was distracted. The grounds were smallish, but cozy, well maintained. The house was brick and seemed impressive, not as large as others on the block, but still stately. They went through a side door into the kitchen. Champ’s eye spun for a moment, before he announced, “Nothing new, we’re clear.”

Stinger nodded.

Champ clapped Stinger’s shoulder. “You got this, partner?”

“I do.”

“Holler if you need me. We’ve got some new flowers to plant.” And Champ was gone.

Stinger let out a long breath and looked at Naaga. “Sit down,” he said, voice soft. “I’ll get you some water or tea. Do you like tea?”

Naaga felt his eyes get wide. He wasn’t sure if he should answer. This could be a trick. The officials were not supposed to get things for him—it was the other way around. At least until… then he would be protected. But he was thirsty and tired and Stinger seemed kind. He finally nodded and sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“I have orange black tea and chamomile.”

“Chamomile, please,” he whispered.

Stinger nodded, filling a kettle with water and putting it on the stove. He turned on a burner. While they were waiting for the water to boil, Stinger sat across the table from him. He reached into a pocket in his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief. He set the bundle on the table and unwrapped it. “I believe those belong to you and Balance,” he said.

The small globes were sitting on the table. They were in Naaga’s things when they were captured. “How?” he croaked.

“My brother is the Jark Matter official over this place.” Stinger shrugged. “No one questions what I do or where I go.” He leaned forward. “Look, I know you’ve been through hell. This place is insanely secure, but I knew there were Kyuutamas here. Finding them and tracking them to you took me some time.”

Naaga frowned at him, unsure what to make of the conversation.

“I’m a Kyuuranger,” Stinger said. “I’m going to get you and Balance out of here.”

“Out?”

“I’m a spy, undercover. Took me weeks to get into my brother’s inner circle. I’ve only been here a week. And in that time, I had to find the Kyuutamas and then you.” Stinger looked at him earnestly. “I know where Balance is—he’s stationed in this neighborhood, a few houses down. This was the only way I could think to get you under my protection.”

“Wh-what?”

“Naaga, I am not going to hurt you.” He gestured to the globes. “Those Kyuutamas mean you and Balance are also Kyuurangers.”

“I didn’t know the Kyuurangers were real.” His voice was soft, tentative.

“They are. I’ll teach you.”

The kettle whistled, startling Naaga enough to make him jump.

“This is a lot. Let’s have some tea. I’ll explain more.”

_Present_  
The transport rattled into the station. Stinger squeezed his hand gently. Naaga felt a little better after using the bathroom and having some tea, but the nerves refused to let up, keeping him wobbly. Coupled with everything else happening to his body that was enough to make him feel ill. “We’re here,” Stinger said softly. “My parents are meeting us with their speeder. The village is small, but I wasn’t sure you’d be up to walking after traveling yesterday and this morning.” He squeezed his hand again. “I can show you the village after lunch. Once you’re rested, it won’t be an issue to walk anywhere we need to go.”

“What about…”

Stinger looked at him questioningly. “Mags?” When Naaga nodded, he smiled a little. “We’ll go meet her tomorrow. I think you’ll like her a lot.”

He nodded, wishing for the first time since they got on the transport that they could just stay here. Stinger stood up, grabbing their packs and the bag of supplies from the overhead storage. He watched as Stinger put his pack over both shoulders, adjusting his cloak just a little. He slung the bag over his shoulder and reached out to help Naaga stand. 

“Need me to get your pack?”

He shook his head, taking the pack from Stinger. He settled his over both shoulders. He didn’t really need help getting up, but he let Stinger do that much. Stinger seemed to enjoy helping him, taking care of him, and that particular quirk was one that he could manage. With the cloak and the tunic-style shirt he was wearing, he looked like any other normal traveler. Nothing unique. He liked the anonymity. Back on the ship, with the other Kyuurangers, they hadn’t exactly been able to hide things and, in spite of Naaga’s intense need for privacy and Stinger, Balance and Champ putting themselves between him and the others, he’d become something of a novelty. He hated that feeling—a bug under a microscope. 

Outside, the sky was bright blue, no clouds in sight. Stinger had explained that, while the planet was mostly desert, the settlements were built near oases or other bodies of water where forests and other plant life had emerged. Thread, Stinger’s home village, had been built near a river, which sprung up a forest. The village had been carved out in the middle of the forest, with the station on the edge of the small forest. Naaga could see the track extend out into the desert, but the sand give way to grass and the lush tree line beyond. 

“Stinger!” a voice called out.

They turned as a couple rushed towards them. Stinger grinned. “Kaa-chan! Tou-chan!” he replied. The woman who Naaga assumed was his mother pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek. The moment she released him, his father was doing the same.

What Naaga had not been expecting was for his mother to immediately turn to him and say, “You must be Naaga. Stinger’s told us so much about you!” And then she hugged him. Naaga had only really hugged Stinger and Balance before, so he wasn’t sure what to do other than to tentatively return the embrace. “I’m so excited to finally meet you,” she added as she released him. She pushed his hair away from his forehead in a gesture that was so… familial. Like she just took him in stride as another child. He’d never considered before how Scorpio’s betrayal must have hurt Stinger’s parents, perhaps even more than it hurt Stinger. But Stinger’s mother was just standing there with kind eyes, smiling, excited to see Naaga for the first time. She was almost as tall as him and Stinger, with wavy brown hair in a loose braid, traditional colorful clothing.

“You look exhausted,” she said, voice sympathetic. “We got the apartment set up. I hope it will be comfortable enough for you. We’ll get you there so you can lie down and then we can have some lunch. Maybe show you the village?”

“Mako,” Stinger’s father interrupted. “Let him get a word in.” If Stinger looked like his mother, then Scopio resembled their father—black hair, dark eyes, fine features. Where Scorpio looked cold and cruel, his father looked relaxed and happy, maybe a little tired. “I’m Hikaru, but you can just call us Tou-chan and Kaa-chan,” he added, clapping Naaga’s shoulder. “And Mako is right—we are really glad to meet you.”

Naaga ducked his head in a slight bow. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

“We had to travel yesterday and this morning,” Stinger said, stepping in, hand on the small of Naaga’s back. “We’re both tired—can we catch up over lunch?”

“Of course!” Stinger’s mother—Mako—looked at him affectionately. She turned back to Naaga, squeezing his wrist. “We’re glad you’re here,” she said softly.

He didn’t know why, but those brief moments of interaction made him feel safe, secure. Stinger’s parents seemed genuinely happy to see them both. Naaga had been expecting hesitation or at least the stark curiosity that he seemed to garner from the others aboard the Orion. Neither happened here. When they arrived at the speeder, Stinger and his father were settling the bags into the cargo hold as his mother produced a bag from the front seat. “Rice balls?” she asked. “I know it’s not meal time yet, but I thought you two might be hungry.”

Naaga still felt queasy from the transport and nerves, so he just politely shook his head.

Mako smiled gently. “I’ll leave them with you at the apartment. You’ve had a long day.”

“It’s been a long year,” Naaga replied before he could stop himself.

She took his hand in another familial gesture, squeezing gently. “Stinger hasn’t told us much about what you went through, and it really isn’t my place to pry. Just know that if you ever want to talk, Hikaru and I are here. No judgment. Bad things and times happen to everyone.”

He nodded tightly.

“Hey,” she continued, voice earnest. “We really are glad you agreed to come here. Whatever you need, don’t hesitate. We’ll make it happen.”

Luckily, Stinger appeared at his side. “Ready?” he asked.

Naaga nodded and climbed into the backseat of the speeder. Stinger climbed in next to him. The trip to the small section of residential units was short. The buildings were two stories high, with outdoor staircases leading to the second floor units. A community garden was to one side, and lots of people had laundry hanging out to dry on their porches. Naaga guessed about twelve units in total were here. Stinger’s parents led them to a second-floor corner unit. 

“We’re downstairs and one over,” Hikaru was saying as he unlocked the door. “This one came available because old Mrs. Wong moved in with her granddaughter.”

“She also couldn’t handle the stairs anymore,” Mako added conversationally.

“Mrs. Wong left most of the furniture, so we did all we could,” he continued, leading them into the unit.

Stinger’s parents seemed to have gone a great deal more than that.

The unit was two bedrooms, with a small living area, dining room and kitchen. The furniture was old, but wooden, polished, cleaned recently. The couch had been covered in a navy blue slip, and a rocking chair and arm chair were in the living room, both with colorful cushions. One bedroom held boxes and storage containers of the supplies they’d been slowly amassing. The other bedroom had a double bed and some simple nightstands and chests of drawers. There was a quilt on the bed—flower basket, if Naaga remembered what Stinger had told him. He walked into the bedroom, fingers brushing the orange and gray flowers. 

“Tou-chan, the quilt is too much,” Stinger was saying.

Naaga turned to see Hikaru brush away the protest. “Nonsense. You’re family—young, just starting out—of course I made you a quilt. Your mother helped.”

She smiled, and added, “The gray afghan is for Naaga.” She gave Naaga a wink, and said, “Don’t let Stinger use it. The nights get cold here.”

“Kaa-chan,” came Stinger’s long suffering tone.

But she smiled again and kissed his cheek. She pulled Naaga into a quick embrace, kissing his cheek too. He wasn’t sure how to respond, flustered again by the familiarity. Mako didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Twelve-thirty for lunch?” she asked.

Stinger nodded.

After some goodbyes, his parents were gone.

The silence was deafening for a moment.

“I’m going to lay down,” Naaga finally mumbled.

Stinger closed the small distance between them, kissing him softly, gently. “Want me to get you some water?”

Naaga opened his mouth to say he was okay, but thought better of it. He was thirsty again and was always thirsty when he woke up. Stinger knew the latter about him, always keeping a bottle of water on their bedside table. He nodded.

Stinger left to get the water. Naaga shed his shoes and outerwear, slipping under the covers of the bed. He thought he might not be able to fall asleep in an unfamiliar place, but the moment he closed his eyes, he was sleeping.

_Eleven Months Ago_  
Naaga woke up screaming. He tried to breath, sitting bolt right up in bed. A cold sweat had broken out over his skin, making his pajamas stick to him uncomfortably. Just a dream. He tried to focus on his surroundings—the bedroom he had in Stinger’s house. The room was small and simple, but adjacent to Stinger’s own bedroom, which meant—

“Naaga?”

Stinger had rushed into the bedroom, only wearing his pajama pants.

He couldn’t stop the flood of emotion that happened the moment he saw Stinger. The sobs bubbled up and spilled over, and in another moment, he was crying. “Stinger,” he ground out through the tears. He was still shaking from the nightmare.

“Oh, Naaga,” Stinger breathed, immediately crossing the room and climbing on the bed, pulling Naaga into his arms. He held him tightly, rocking him back and forth as he cried. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s all right. It was just a dream.”

Stinger was resting his cheek on the top of Naaga’s head. Naaga curled into the warmth of his body, arms around his waist, trying to will the ugly sobs to stop. Nothing helped. The dream felt so real. He had been back in the training center, being told that he would be punished until he could obey without question. In the dream, he had thought he was doing so. But the administrators disagreed. They strapped him to a bed like they had all that time ago, and took switches to the bottoms of his feet again. He still had scars on his feet and back. Stinger was trying to help him put salve on those. But the searing pain from the dream had been so real. His feet burned from the memory of the dream.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Stinger replied. “Don’t be sorry about what those bastards did to you.”

“My feet hurt.”

“From the dream?” He nodded against Stinger’s chest. Stinger swore softly under his breath, muttering dark things about the Gilead officials. “I have some of the cooling lotion in my room,” Stinger said softly. “Why don’t you sleep in my bed the rest of the night? Your nightmares don’t seem to be as bad when I’m close by.”

He was so tired and scared and hurting that he just nodded, and let Stinger tug him out of bed, leading him the short distance to Stinger’s bedroom. They’d only been living in this house, together, for a month, but Naaga felt like a lifetime had passed. Stinger was hard to read—he was cool and aloof around his brother or other Gilead officials, but warm and caring around Naaga. His warmth was quiet. Naaga spent most days alone in the house, reading the books or working on some of the training exercises Stinger had shown him. Stinger would often find him in the corner of the house he’d retreated to, bringing a cup of tea, sitting with him. No talking, just being supportive. Comfortable. That was something Naaga had never felt with another person, not even Balance. 

The covers were completely pulled back on Stinger’s bed, including the orange afghan that Naaga liked. He thought the blanket was soft and cuddly. He often curled up in the blanket when Stinger wasn’t home. But always returned the blanket to Stinger’s bed before he got back.

Stinger got him settled on the bed, and then got the lotion. Soon enough, Naaga’s feet were in Stinger’s lap as he rubbed the lotion into the soles of his feet. His fingers massaged his feet, the fruity smell of the lotion spreading through the room.

“Better?” Stinger asked softly.

Naaga nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Stinger had done so much for him in one month—taught him to use his Kyuutama, trained him, even befriended the official whose house Balance was stationed at so Naaga could visit him. (And so Stinger could get him his own Kyuutama and help him train.)

_“Stinger likes you,”_ Champ had mooed one evening. _“Never seen him take to anyone like he’s taken to you.”_

Soon enough, they had settled under the covers. Naaga supposed Stinger had woken up one too many times to Naaga cuddling his back—now, Stinger just pulled his back against his chest, wrapping his arm and tail around his waist. He felt himself relax immediately into the warmth of Stinger’s body, feeling secure under the blankets, wishing that the feeling of comfort was more than fleeting.

“You’re okay,” Stinger was murmuring. “I’ve got you.”

The murmuring gave way into soft singing—a song from Stinger’s home world, about stars and the desert and warriors. Naaga didn’t know what the song meant, but Stinger sang the song all the time meaning it was important to his people. Between the singing and the warmth and Stinger, Naaga felt himself drift off into a deep sleep. 

When he woke up, gray pre-dawn light filtered into the room. His body was flushed and throbbing, and he desperately tried to remember his dream. Stinger had been there, vaguely. What had they been doing? Stinger shifted against him and Naaga froze. He could feel Stinger’s length against his backside and he was completely hard. Naaga knew that happening during sleep was not uncommon amongst organics, and he knew about sex (although that worked differently for his people.) But knowing Stinger was aroused made the aching in his body that much worse.

Unsure what to do, he scrambled out of bed and into Stinger’s bathroom.

Breathing harshly, he shut the door behind him, turning on the light. Why did he feel like this? Like he was about to explode if someone didn’t do something. He stumbled to a semi-sitting position on the closed toilet lid, trying to be objective about how he felt. His people had both male and female reproductive organs—he’d always been taught that was about the sameness that his people sought. Either could be stimulated, but both weren’t active at the same time. Safety? Design? He really had no idea. Sex was for reproduction, so he didn’t know what to do about the throbbing heat in the opening between his legs. He bit his lip, a tear slipping down his cheek. He wanted Stinger close, wanted to touch Stinger, wanted Stinger to touch him. He knew theoretically how kissing worked, and he ached to have Stinger’s lips on his. As their familiarity with each other grew, Naaga’s stray thoughts about this came more frequently. Stinger might not even want this, but he had been hard in bed, so maybe…

Another tear fell and Naaga was about to draw blood on his lip.

Going on pure instinct, he shoved his hand inside his pajama pants, fingers going to work his opening. Everything was hot and wet, and he was already so worked up. Very little was needed against the aching nub of flesh before he felt himself seize up, body overcome with pleasure, stars practically exploding before his eyes. Every nerve ending was on fire, a buzzing in his ears as he came down.

A knock on the bathroom door startled him.

“Naaga?” came Stinger’s voice. “You okay?”

And then the reality of the situation came crashing in on him. He was sweaty and flushed and felt almost damp everywhere. His body was now limp with exhaustion. He bit back a sob, removing his hand from his pajama pants, not sure what to do now.

“Naaga,” Stinger said a little more loudly. “I’m coming in.”

None of the doors had locks. Stinger opened the door slowly, taking in Naaga sitting there, flushed and crying again. He was still only wearing pajama pants, arousal seeming to have faded enough to not be noticeable. “Hey,” he said softly, crossing the small room to him, one hand brushing his hair from his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” he started, sniffling hard. Just say what he thought—wasn’t that what Stinger told him to do rather than figure out the social niceties around something? “When I woke up, I was…” he gestured, trying to think of the word, failed, and then continued, “And you were…”

Stinger blinked, and then realization dawned on his face. “Hard?” he supplied after a beat. He flushed a little bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, that hasn’t happened to me since I was a teenager.” He gazed at Naaga searchingly. “But you were too?”

“Aroused,” he choked out. “Yes.”

“Which ones?” Stinger exclaimed, and then backpedaled with, “I’m sorry. Is that too odd a question? Or too personal? I’m not sure how your anatomy works.”

In spite of the mortifying situation, Naaga felt a smile involuntarily tug at his lips. Stinger was as off kilter as him about this and there was something comforting in that small fact. “It’s okay,” he replied softly. “Either can get aroused. This was… not like you,” he ended awkwardly. 

Luckily, Stinger seemed to understand. He knelt down, one hand on Naaga’s cheek and the other on his shoulder. “Are you okay now?” he asked.

Naaga nodded. “I just…” he gestured vaguely again.

Stinger frowned. “You took care of it yourself?” When he nodded, he asked, “Did you like it?”

“I’d rather you did it,” he blurted and then flushed deeply. 

“Naaga,” Stinger said softly. “Look at me.” He raised his head, shakily meeting Stinger’s gaze. “I like you a lot, and if you want to try having sex, then I’m game.” His thumb stroked his cheek for a moment. “We just need to agree on what we both want out of this—we’re stuck here for a while and need to be able to cohabitate without problems.”

“Can we date?”

Stinger blinked again. “Date?”

Naaga continued to flush. “Be in a relationship?” he tried again. “I think Balance told me it was called dating, but we get to know each other and have sex and have a relationship.”

Stinger laughed a little. “Yes,” he agreed. “It’s called dating. I’d like that too.”

He was not expecting Stinger to close the small distance between them and gently press his lips to his own. Kissing. His body was still hot and oversensitive from just a few moments ago, but the feeling of Stinger’s lips against his own made new tingles run down his back. He pressed closer, hands going to Stinger’s shoulders, fingers interlocking behind his neck. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt Stinger’s tongue against his lips, he opened his mouth slightly and the tingles turned into full on shudders. The pleasure was running down his back as if waiting for him to decide how he wanted to be aroused.

“Stinger?” he whispered when they stopped to breath.

“Hmm?”

“Is this okay?”

“This is better than okay,” and Stinger was kissing him again.

Funny how kissing Stinger made him forget all the pain and darkness.

_Six Months Ago_  
“Naaga, this is third day in a row you’ve thrown up in the morning. I know we want to avoid the doctors here, but we might have to go there in order to get you some medicine.”

Naaga tried to wave away his concern, but was too busy fighting off the final dry heaves, head against the edge of the toilet seat. The last two days, he’d felt sick around mid-morning and thrown up everything he’d eaten for breakfast. The nausea continued into the afternoon, but then he’d be able to eat a bland dinner before collapsing into bed early. 

Stinger was on the floor next to him, damp washcloth in hand. He nudged Naaga a little, and Naaga allowed himself to be moved. Stinger gently wiped off his mouth, and then folded the washcloth another way, pressing the cool cloth to his forehead and cheeks.

“This isn’t normal,” Stinger continued. “Most stomach bugs are gone in twenty-four hours. You also don’t have a fever and are keeping some food down.”

“Can you ask Raptor?”

“Champ can likely get a coded message through to her, but she’s going to need more symptoms to go on than ‘throwing up religiously at eleven every morning’.”

Raptor was the pilot android back on the Kyuurangers’ ship, the Orion. She was also their first aider and pseudo-doctor, and this would not be the first time they’d gotten Raptor to diagnose something long-distance. 

They’d been stuck here for six months—security was tight on this regime. Stinger had been hoping that his brother would move on to another assignment. As part of Scorpio’s entourage, Stinger would be able to leave with him. Champ traveled with him, naturally. And Stinger’s plan had been to fake some medical records that Naaga had conceived and insist, using Jark Matter leverage, that Naaga stay with him. He’d already gotten Balance reassigned to his household, and had been planning to just fake his paperwork to look like Champ’s. A lot of guesswork and risks, but Scorpio held a lot of power and he trusted Stinger, meaning Stinger could use that power to his advantage.

But Scorpio said they were saying for a while, until some of the Jark Matter Shogun’s forces silenced some smaller rebellions and converged on Earth. The planet had some valuable resources and Jark Matter wanted to conquer the whole place. But the forces were taking longer to converge. Stinger had said Scorpio was frustrated by the extra time, but all they could really do was wait.

“If you’re not feeling better tomorrow, we have to do something.”

“No,” Naaga protested, sitting up. “It’s not that bad.”

“Naaga, I—” But then Stinger stopped abruptly. He frowned at him. “You don’t think you’re…” He trailed off, looking troubled.

“No,” he said again, with more force. “That’s not possible.”

“Naaga, we’ve had a lot of late nights and stress, and there’s no contraception to be found here. We could have just been tired and not careful.”

He turned away, desperately turning the information over in his mind. They’d been in a relationship, having sex, for the past five months. They didn’t always have sex that could result in conception, because they had lots of other options—in fact, Naaga hadn’t known they had quite that many options available to them. Stinger was gentle and loving, and even when things got a little rougher or wild, he was still incredibly in tune with what Naaga needed or was comfortable with. Naaga looked forward to their nights spent together. Sometimes in the morning. Stinger was gone for almost all of the day, so catching each other then was not an option.

But one of the things Naaga had always known was that he could end the ovulation cycle. It didn’t quite manifest the same way that it did for other organic beings, but after sex, he could essentially stop everything and that would prevent this from happening. And he had. He’d been careful. Every time after they made love that way, Stinger fulfilling a deep throbbing ache in his body, he’d stopped things. He thought he had. They did have a tendency to have sex when they were half asleep, but he wasn’t ever that asleep, was he?

Stinger opened the cabinet under the sink and extracted the pregnancy test.

“I can’t do that right now,” Naaga mumbled. At the questioning look, he continued, “Everything just came back up and I won’t be able to keep water down for a few hours.”

“Okay. This evening, then? Please?” Stinger brushed his hair away from his forehead. “At the very least, we need to rule it out.”

Stinger had the afternoon off, so he put on an old movie and they curled up on the couch. He’d purposely asked for the time off with Naaga not feeling well. He got the orange afghan from his—their—bed so Naaga could curl up under it, head in Stinger’s lap. Naaga didn’t watch the movie, just fitfully dozed against Stinger, not wanting to think about taking the test when he could keep some water down. Stinger wasn’t really watching either, his eyes flitting anxiously to Naaga. They’d never talked about having children before, or even much long-term about their relationship. They needed to get out of this place first, he supposed. 

In spite of everything, he still fell mostly asleep. Stinger was working on a new afghan—Naaga found out early on that he’d made the one on his bed, and was quite adept at all kinds of handcrafts. He made quilts, sewed clothes and stuffed animals, knitted, crocheted, even knew how to make his own jewelry from metal scraps. Since Naaga liked the orange one so much, Stinger was working on an orange and gray afghan, crocheted and striped, which he said was for Naaga. He loved watching the progress, seeing the blanket grow bigger and bigger. Stinger was almost done now—just a few more rows and then the quick border that he wanted to put around it.

Late afternoon, Stinger gently nudged him and said, “Here. Try this one out.”

Naaga sat up a little. “It’s done?”

Stinger nodded, smiling a little. Naaga pushed the orange one off and wrapped himself in the new afghan. He returned the smile, snuggling a little into the warmth. “It’s very nice.”

He leaned into Stinger’s touch as he gently smoothed down his hair. “Feeling better?” he asked.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up, leaving his new blanket on the couch. He picked up a bottle of water, and whispered, “Just give me some time.”

There were too many risks they’d taken just in being together, and as he retreated into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, he already had a sinking feeling that he knew what the test would tell him. He drank the water, waiting a few minutes, and then opened the test, reading the instructions and going through the motions.

He stared at the result for a long time. Positive.

He couldn’t think, his mind going entirely blank. What were they going to do?

He must have been in there a long time, because he heard Stinger knock. “Naaga?” he asked softly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely.

Stinger walked in, holding his new blanket. Naaga showed him the test. Stinger let out a long breath, taking the test and setting it on the bathroom counter. He handed him the blanket, which Naaga clutched to his chest. Stinger pulled him into a tight embrace, fingers through his hair. “Naaga, listen to me. It’s you and me. We’ll figure this out. I’m getting you out of here.” He pulled back, thumb tracing Naaga’s cheekbone. “I want you to go lay down. Champ and I will think of something.”

Naaga nodded, still feeling numb and exhausted. He allowed Stinger to lead him down the hall and into their bedroom, tucking him into bed under the new afghan. Stinger hesitated for a moment, and then reached into the trunk at the foot of the bed. He brought out a plush animal. Naaga recognized the shape as a cat. “Here,” Stinger said, handing him the cat and tucking it under the covers with him. “You like feeding the cats outside, so I thought you might like this too—it also might help when you want to clutch something and it’s more portable than a blanket.” Naaga smiled a little. The animal was a little larger than normal ones, made of soft dark gray fabric, and squishy. He didn’t know why the afghan and plush animal made him feel safe, like everything would be okay, but they did.

He woke up a few hours later after dark. Stinger wasn’t in bed. He could hear soft voices downstairs and recognized Champ’s deep mooing. He got out of bed and crept down the stairs.

“You didn’t tell Raptor why, partner,” Champ was saying.

“I want to keep that between us, and I definitely don’t want the people here finding out.”

“Raptor is discreet. She’ll find out eventually anyways.”

“I just… look, we literally found out hours ago. I want out of here so we can make a decision without this stupid place hanging over our heads.”

“I get that.” Champ mooed again. “I think what Raptor suggested is our best bet. We can piggyback their real credentials and bypass the ones created here. Make it look like we’re all on a weekend trip somewhere outside of here, and then make a break once we’re clear. Lucky and Garou can provide air cover for that part.”

“Getting them from the house to the transport without being noticed will be tough.”

Champ shrugged. “Little mud and a few aesthetic parts, and we can make Balance look like an older model android—the Cleansweeps, maybe.” Another moo. “And then we cut and dye Naaga’s hair, give him a hat to keep pulled down low to hide his eyes. Dress him like a Jark Matter junior governor or something.”

“Okay,” Stinger replied. “That’s workable. Timeframe?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Stinger echoed, note of panic in his tone. He swore under his breath.

“Stinger?” Naaga’s voice sounded rusty and unused to his own ears. 

“Naaga,” he breathed, standing up. “Champ,” he said. “Get Balance ready to go. When do we need to get out?”

“Raptor’s got a window—in about forty minutes she can make the credentials work. Got fifteen minutes after that. Ten would be better.”

“We need to move.”

Stinger crossed the room to him, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. He reached down and threaded their fingers together, leading Naaga back up the stairs and into their bedroom. Naaga couldn’t stop the shaking. All this time stuck here, waiting, and they could have been extracted before now? He didn’t know how to parse any of that information. Stinger might know more, understand why. “We need to pack what we can,” Stinger explained. “Everything has to fit in two bags. It has to look like weekend luggage.”

“I only want the afghans and this,” he said softly, indicating the cat plush still clutched to his chest.

“Try to pack some of the clothes,” Stinger replied, eyes softening. “We’ll get you new things when we’re on the Orion, but you need something in the meantime.”

Packing went quickly. Stinger had two mismatched bags, which he said were a good thing, because they’d look like personal bags for each of them. He shoved the pregnancy test down in the bottom of his own bag, explaining he didn’t want the officials to find it. He had Naaga change into a pair of dark pants and boots, and pushed him into the bathroom. The haircut was quick and messy, but got his hair short enough. The dye was cheap and smelt terrible, but did a decent job covering his distinctive silver hair. He looked pale and shaky, dark circles under his eyes. He hardly recognized himself anymore.

Everything else passed in a blur. 

He hated not being able to focus, feeling slightly floaty and out of body, unable to really connect with the situation happening right before him, to him. He could only focus on wanting to know why they hadn’t just left earlier, and his—their—baby. As Stinger would say, what in the hell were they going to do?

They got in the car, and Champ drove them to the checkpoint on the border in the time frame.

The guard just exchanged pleasantries. They drove on without incident.

The airstrip was in an abandoned field.

Three ships were there.

Stinger was talking to someone, appeared to know them, but Naaga was really beyond hearing anything, a strange roaring settling in his ears. They got on the ship, and when they took off, Naaga found himself in the toilet, immediately emptying the limited contents of his stomach. Stinger was flying the ship, so Balance did his best to comfort him. That’s right, Balance didn’t know.

“That was too damn easy,” Champ muttered as they landed on a large ship orbiting the planet.

“Too bad I left all the devices my brother could contact me on,” Stinger added. “He’s likely livid at this point.”

“We cloaked?” Champ asked an android who just walked into the bay.

“Of course,” she replied. “Clear of bugs and tracking devices. Jark Matter didn’t follow you.”

“Good.” Naaga pressed close to Stinger, just wanting to collapse into bed somewhere.

“You must be Naaga and Balance,” she continued. “I’m Raptor. You met Lucky and Garou.” The other organic and a lupine biped waved. Naaga didn’t actually remember meeting them or learning their names, but he kept quiet. “I have rooms—”

“Naaga’s with me,” Stinger said quickly.

Raptor gave him a level look. “I don’t care where anyone sleeps or lives, but as per Rebellion regulations, each of you has assigned quarters.”

He must have lost more time, because when he blinked, he was in the bathroom of living quarters, wearing only a pair of Stinger’s pajama pants. “Naaga?” he turned to look at Stinger, who was only wearing sweatpants. Stinger cupped his cheek. “There you are,” he whispered. “I was getting worried.”

“Why didn’t we leave earlier?” he asked, slight sob breaking his voice.

Stinger sighed. “Intel. I got you and Balance into a safe place. And we were hoping to get more information from Scorpio. Spying is a waiting game.” His thumb stroked his cheek. “I’m so sorry we didn’t leave earlier. I wanted to. And believe me, if you or Balance’s safety had been at risk, we would have.”

“But my safety is now?”

Stinger’s expression was earnest and fierce. “If they had found out, I don’t know what they would have done. Members of their regime keep them around. But I’m not. I didn’t want to risk them separating us.”

“But the original plan?”

“To fake it to get out?” Another long sigh. “That was a tentative plan. The more Champ and I learned about those people, the more we realized we needed a different ruse.” He paused. “Naaga, I love you. The last thing I want is for those people to do something to you.”

The sobs finally broke free, and Naaga wrapped his arms around Stinger’s waist, pressing his face to his chest. Stinger wrapped an arm around his back, free hand going to thread through his hair. He gently rocked him back and forth. “Shh,” Stinger soothed. “It’s going to be okay. We need some food and rest.” Stinger eased him away for a moment, wiping away some tears. “I was going to see how much of the dye I could get out of your hair before you came back.”

Naaga sniffed, rubbing his eye. He nodded.

They were mostly quiet, Stinger singing softly, as he went to work. “I need to straighten out this haircut,” Stinger muttered as he ran his fingers through Naaga’s hair, using the detachable showerhead to rinse out the black dye. The water ran gray, but the original silver started to show through again.

Naaga closed his eyes as Stinger’s fingers massaged his scalp. 

“Naaga?”

“Hmm?”

“I know we haven’t talked about it, but do you want to have the baby?” Naaga’s eyes opened, heart beating faster as Stinger spoke. “We’re in the middle of a war. And we’re Kyuurangers. A lot is expected of us. And you and I haven’t been together that long. I don’t know.” He paused, and Naaga caught how heartbroken he looked in the mirror. “We don’t have to make any decisions tonight. But I will support you, no matter what.”

He reached up, taking Stinger’s hand and squeezing a little. He’d never thought about a family or children before. Then again, he’d never felt about anyone the way he felt about Stinger. Was this something he even wanted? “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But if you’re here…”

Stinger gently kissed his hand. “Should I hold off on the marriage proposal?” But his tone was lighter, teasing. 

Naaga involuntarily smiled. “Please hold off on that. Let’s do one thing at a time.”

All at once, he was starving and exhausted. He just wanted food and sleep. All of this could be tomorrow’s problem.

_Present_  
Mags was not what he expected. He’d been thinking an older, stern lady. Maybe like the administrator from the training center, but a little softer. But Mags was young—less than ten years older than he and Stinger. Her brown hair was long and wavy, and pulled away from her face with a teal scarf. She was wearing a white peasant blouse and long colorful, patchwork skirt. She was friendly and energetic. Naaga didn’t feel at ease with new people, but he did with Mags. He purposely told Stinger this first appointment he’d attend by himself. He was tired of being poked and prodded with an audience. Mags assured him there would be no injections or unpleasant things going in places he didn’t want to think about. Just an ultrasound to check on the baby’s growth and then they’d talk.

She did the ultrasound first. He’d seen these before, but Mags was a lot more informative, pointing out the baby’s features, what was normal for seven and a half months. The image even produced the baby’s scorpion tail. “The baby is very healthy,” Mags had said. “And you are one of the healthiest people I’ve ever seen.” She smiled. “I have never seen someone at seven and a half months not really showing at all.”

Naaga had flushed a little, not sure how to take the compliment. 

Afterwards, Mags made some tea and they settled into overstuffed chairs. “You’re still a few weeks out, so you have time to talk through a birth plan.”

“Birth plan?”

She smiled. “It can seem a little silly to plan for something that can be unpredictable, but it’s really a good idea to decide what you want.”

“What do people normally want?”

If the question was odd or strange, Mags didn’t react. Naaga had no idea how these things went. On his home planet, people who were expecting went through orientation and learned what the options were for them. He suspected they were relatively few there. When Stinger had first suggested this, he’d thought the reason was more about being in a place that Stinger trusted and felt was secure. That was part of this, but maybe, also, Stinger realized Naaga might be more comfortable and have more options.

Mags shrugged. “People decide who gets to be there.”

He frowned. “I don’t want people there.”

“Not even Stinger? Most folks want their partner there.”

With even thinking, he sighed. “I’m not sure what we are.”

Mags just looked mild and neutral. “Stinger said you two were engaged.”

“We are. I guess,” he mumbled, feeling himself flushing again. Why was he telling a total stranger his problems? Because she wasn’t fixed on one outcome, like Stinger was? Naaga wanted to be with him, but Stinger seemed to have decided that all of this was a waiting game. He desperately wanted to get married and plan for a future together, and had stopped asking, but Naaga knew he hadn’t given up. He was simply waiting. Perhaps until after the baby was born. They had engagement rings. Stinger wore his. Naaga had issue with slight swelling in his fingers, so he wore his on a chain around his neck, wearing a silicon ring instead (which was more comfortable right now.) And honestly, Stinger did that too when he was working. 

Automatically, he went to clutch the ring on the chain. 

“You guess?”

He looked away, throat tight and tears stinging his eyes. “All of this,” he gestured vaguely, “is my fault. We were trapped in an extremist regime and I wasn’t careful.” He quickly wiped away the tears, mortified that he was now crying in front a stranger. “Stinger… when I decided I wanted to have the baby, he was thrilled, but he wants to get married.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Mags’ tone was soft and inquisitive.

“If there was no baby, he wouldn’t be asking.”

Mags actually smiled at that. “Maybe not right now, but later, yeah, he’d be asking.”

“Wh-what?”

“You feel like he thinks he’s obligated to ask, make things right?”

Naaga drew a shaky breath. “Something like that.”

Mags grinned then. “Look, let me give you some advice, as someone who’s known Stinger since he was born.” She reached out, squeezing Naaga’s wrist gently. “Stinger is the kind of person that thrives on caring for others. He tries to hide it, but he loves it. And he’s a damn romantic.” Her smile grew. “I remember the first person he dated in high school—he was an amazing boyfriend. He was about sixteen. And she broke his heart. I thought he was never leaving his room.” She shook her head. “But let me tell you, I’ve never seen Stinger look at anyone else the way he looks at you. He’s in love with you, and that kind of love is much deeper than simply having a baby together. Stinger has always been a family man. I saw him briefly last night—he’s very excited about all this.” 

He had no idea why, but he replied with, “We can’t even agree on a name for the baby.”

“But I think you can agree on a lot of other things.”

He wiped away another tear. “He’s been finding books for the baby because I said we needed to read to her.”

“See?” She was still smiling. “If you want my advice? You’ve still got about six weeks before the baby comes. Use that time to talk to Stinger, connect with him. Tell him how you’re feeling. Let him dote on you a little, and don’t push him away. I think you’ll find a very loving partner.”

He had spent so much time trying to put space between then, it never occurred to him to actually bring Stinger closer. Maybe he did love Stinger? No, he knew he loved Stinger. He just wished they had more time before this.

_One Month Ago_  
“So for the away team to the surface, I’m taking Lucky, Garou, Hame and… Naaga.”

Dead silence fell over the group on the bridge. Naaga felt himself flush, desperately hanging his head and wishing he could blend into the wall. Tsurugi had just going the crew, awakened from the Argo ship. Clearly no one had briefed him on who was medically cleared to go on missions and who wasn’t. Even in the beginning, Raptor hadn’t cleared Naaga to fight, just for recon and intel missions. (Although some of those got sticky and he’d been able to easily fight his way out of those, no harm to himself or the baby.) But he’d just passed the six month mark and Raptor banned all missions. He was effectively stuck on the ship. Granted, his training on his home planet had been in space engineering and programming, so he was very effective on the ship. But still. Raptor didn’t bring up why he stayed on the ship, just left things at where they were assigned.

He was about to leave, when Hame blurted, “Naaga can’t go. He’s pregnant.”

Naaga winced, frown deepening. He felt tears burn his eyes and throat—he hated crying and yet that was all he seemed to do. He didn’t bother to wait for reactions or someone to tell Hame to be quiet or see Tsurugi cycle through surprise then curiosity then spectacle, like Naaga was a freak. He just turned and left the bridge.

He had work in the bowels of the ship, replacing some circuits and wiring. He automatically went there, grabbing the tools to begin working. He hated this ship. Nothing remained secret. He wasn’t showing, so Tsurugi would not have known anything if they’d kept their mouths shut. The only way they knew was because of the restrictions Raptor put on Naaga and the frequent medical exams (and vitamins). Most of them had put two and two together with what they knew of the regime where they’d been stuck and Naaga’s persistent morning sickness during the first trimester. 

He had the panels open, parts on the floor, but was unable to focus on work. Stinger had gotten permission for them to be on leave in a month. They were traveling to Stinger’s home planet. Stinger told so many stories about his brother’s betrayal that Naaga had assumed that happened in their home. But no, that had been a military encampment on another Scorpius system planet. Stinger’s home planet was well protected and had avoided Jark Matter invasion. “Besides, my parents are there. They want to meet you and they want to help us.” As much as Naaga was scared to meet Stinger’s parents, he wished they were leaving now, so he could be spared the humiliation of dealing with this crew.

The other part, that Stinger had not said yet but was coming, was that his parents could care for and protect the baby after she was born. They were Kyuurangers. The Kyuutamas chose them. They couldn’t exactly walk away from the fight. Giving them two months off was not something Rebellion could exactly afford, but was doing it anyways. But keeping the baby with them? Rebellion could not accommodate that. So there was this unspoken plan. 

“Holy moly, it’s cold down here.”

Naaga turned, wiping his eyes. Tsurugi. He was holding a bundle of clothes. Naaga frowned a little—those were his clothes.

“You forgot your sweater and things,” Tsurugi continued conversationally. “Stinger was going to bring them, but I was headed down here anyways.”

Naaga accepted the extra clothing from Tsurugi. Stinger had knitted all the pieces—the cardigan style sweater, the scarf, the hat and the fingerless gloves. He put on each piece, even taking a moment to remove his jacket and get the sweater properly under the jacket.

“What are you working on?” When Naaga explained, Tsurugi replied, “I’m not that great at engineering like this, but I can hand you tools for a while.”

He agreed and they worked in relative silence for a while, Tsurugi just responding to Naaga’s soft request for a particular tool. He was so used to seeing Tsurugi in a leadership position, constantly bragging about being legendary, that this was a nice change of pace. 

“I’m sorry Hame said that,” Tsurugi said after a while.

“It’s okay,” Naaga replied, voice wavering.

“It’s not,” was the response, “but it’s nice of you to say that.” A pause and then, “It’s not her story to tell—or any of them. All I needed to know was that away missions aren’t on the table for you.”

Naaga didn’t know what to say, so he just continued working.

“It must be hard, the others hyperaware of you like that.” Tsurugi exhaled. Naaga turned over his shoulder to look at him. “But they’re pretty damn stupid if they can’t see outside their own reality. After everything you’ve been through, you’re legendary. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

Naaga tried to smile, but failed.

“I need to get back for the recon mission,” Tsurugi said, standing up. “If it makes you feel any better, Stinger and Balance jumped on Hame immediately after you left, and Champ kind of menacingly stood behind them. Don’t think she’ll be blurting anything any time soon.”

“I just want to be left alone,” Naaga muttered.

“That, I can make happen.” Tsurugi cracked his knuckles. “I did unite all the galaxies and was the first president of the Space Federation. I can get this bunch to leave you alone.”

Somehow, Naaga believed him.

_Present_  
Turning over what Mags had said to him, Naaga slowly climbed the stairs to their little second-floor apartment. They still had a lot of unpacking to do—and a lot of baby furniture and accessories to build—but this place already seemed more like home than any place Naaga had been in the last year. When he came in the front door, Stinger was folding laundry on the couch.

“Hey, you,” Stinger said warmly, putting aside the shirt he’d been folding and standing up. Naaga closed the door behind him as Stinger stepped into his space briefly, pressing a firm kiss to his lips in greeting. Naaga responded and held on for a little longer—he really did like kissing Stinger. “How did everything with Mags go?”

“Good,” he said quickly, then added, with a frown, “Apparently, I need a birth plan. Mags said you should help me with that.”

Instead of looking exasperated, put out or annoyed, Stinger just looked ridiculously pleased. “Anything you need, really,” he said softly. “What do you want for dinner? I went to the market and got a few fresh things, and my parents made us lots of frozen dinners. So we have options.”

Naaga gazed at Stinger for a long moment. He’d spent so much time scared and alone and pushing Stinger away. He hadn’t quite realized that Stinger was doing all this for him—Stinger cared about him, wanted to bond, wanted a future together. Perhaps none of this was out of guilt or a sense of obligation or doing what was right. 

He clearly remembered the moment, months ago, where he had made the decision to have the baby. He knew what the other options were, knew that no one—not even Stinger—would blame him for making another choice. They had been in bed, on the Orion. That was the evening Stinger had finally attempted to straighten out the hasty haircut, and done a decent job. Stinger had brought some chocolate cake back from a mission on the surface, and they’d had cake and tea, cuddled up together under the afghans Naaga loved. Stinger had his datapad out and, instead of explaining the ship and mission and daily Rebellion life like normal, he was playing videos of a band he really liked. He was so animated and excited to be sharing this with Naaga. He remembered thinking, I want to do this… with you.

And now that he was thinking more about what Mags had said, Naaga ate a fairly restrictive healthy diet, similar to what he would have eaten on his home planet. He didn’t usually allow himself any deviation or treats, no matter what he was craving. (That had gotten especially bad with that baby.) But the few times they’d been able to go to a restaurant or Stinger brought food back from a planet’s surface, he always seemed to order or bring chocolate or some other treat. Naaga loved chocolate, but didn’t allow himself that indulgence… unless Stinger showed up with cake or cookies or ice cream. Stinger preferred fruity flavors, things like lemon bars. Which meant he was only bringing the chocolate things because he knew they would make Naaga happy. How had he missed that?

“Remember the milkshake you gave me some of one time?” Stinger nodded, looking a little surprised. “Can we have something like that?”

Now, Stinger looked truly relaxed and in his element. “Absolutely. There’s a diner in town. I swear, the owner was ancient when I was a kid.” He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him closer and pressing another kiss to his lips. “Amazing burgers. Milkshakes. Sound good to you?” He nodded quickly, leaning in for another kiss. 

The walk to the diner was nice. The evening was cool and clear, with a warm breeze. Stinger held his hand as they walked in a comfortable silence. The diner, like many of the buildings in the village, was old but well-maintained. When they walked through the door, the old man behind the counter called, “Stinger! I have not seen you in three years, and that’s a problem.” But he broke in a large smile, eyes crinkling as he took them in. “How have you been?” he asked.

“Still alive,” Stinger replied with a return grin, shaking hands with him briefly.

“That’s something.” The man turned to Naaga. “You must be Naaga. Sorry, little town, new person around means big news!” Naaga simply nodded a greeting, pressing a little closer to Stinger. Which did not seem to faze the old man, like nothing had fazed Mags. Naaga liked that about these people. He waved them towards a corner booth. “You kids can go cuddle over there. Stinger, I’m making your usual.” He eyed Naaga critically for a moment. “You look like you’d enjoy my chicken avocado sandwich. And I’ll get you both fries. One strawberry and one chocolate shake, yeah?”

Stinger confirmed the order. Still grinning, he tugged Naaga over to the booth. “There’s no menu here,” he explained. “They just make what you ask for, as long as its within the range of diner food.”

They settled into the booth, able to sit next to each other around what was approximately the corner. Stinger slid an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him close and kissing his temple. 

“You seem better,” Stinger commented neutrally. 

“I feel better,” he replied simply, but spoke too soon because the baby kicked him—hard. “Maybe not physically better,” he conceded at Stinger’s concern. “You need to explain to your daughter that kicking me this hard is not nice.”

Stinger smiled, rubbing a hand over his abdomen, immediately frowning. “Baby girl,” he said softly. “You know better than to do this to your papa.” He kept rubbing, settling into a relaxing rhythm. The baby’s kicks slowed down to flutters. 

“Mags and I talked about a lot,” he continued. “I want you there when the baby is born.”

Maybe an odd thing to say, but Stinger said nothing, simply nodding. He kept on rubbing his abdomen, and that felt amazing. He’d have to ask Stinger to do that more often. Stinger was humming under his breath, holding him close. Naaga leaned against his side, looking up at his profile, realizing, with stark clarity, he did love Stinger.

And couldn’t stop himself from saying softly, “I love you.”

Stinger’s hand came to a stop, as he looked at Naaga, surprised and pleased. “You’ve never said that to me before,” he breathed.

“I know. You’ve said it to me lots of times, but I was scared and not sure what I was feeling. But I really do. I love you.”

“Naaga,” Stinger replied, one hand cupping his cheek. “You are incredibly brave and strong. I think I was a little bit in love the moment I met you.” His thumb stroked his cheekbone. “I know we haven’t known each other long, and circumstances are making us go faster than either of us want, but I want to make this work. I want to be your partner.” He looked vulnerable, but earnest, when he added, “If you’ll have me.”

“I want that too.” Naaga kissed him quickly. “Let’s get married.”

“Yes,” Stinger breathed, kissing him again. “Let’s do that.”

“I think you should eat first, before you run off and get married.” The old man was standing there with a tray with their food, water and milkshakes. But he was grinning. Naaga flushed, almost went to pull away from Stinger for social niceties, but the old man, once again, didn’t seem fazed, and Naaga really did enjoy being this close to Stinger. The baby’s kicking had slowed and felt manageable, so he’d actually be able to enjoy the food.

After the food had been placed on the table, Naaga immediately tugged his milkshake towards himself, taking a sip. He’d be happy just having the milkshake for dinner—that was good. Stinger was smiling at him, quickly kissing his cheek. “Try some of your food,” he encouraged. “They make excellent sandwiches here.”

“What did you get?” he asked.

“Burger with swiss cheese, mushrooms and onions.” At his interested expression, Stinger nudged him. “I’ll let you try some if you let me try your chicken sandwich.”

Naaga felt himself smile involuntarily. This was comfortable and familiar and warm. Something so simple as sharing a meal… seemed small, but he wanted to savor these moments, the few weeks they had together. They had no idea what was coming with Jark Matter or the war. But he wasn’t giving up. He wanted to plan a future together. Right here. This place was home to Stinger, and he wanted to make this place his home too. 

As they were finished eating, the conversation came back to the birth plan. “You really don’t want pain medication?” Stinger asked. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, tucking him against his side. Naaga felt full and sleepy, and went easily.

“No,” he mumbled. “Mags said it has to be injected or intravenous. I don’t want that.”

“Naaga—”

“Stinger, I hate those things. I’ll manage.”

Stinger kissed him. “Okay. Okay. You can handle it. I know.” He wrapped both arms around Naaga, so he was cradling both Naaga and the baby. This felt like being home. Naaga snuggled back against him, not sure how he was going to walk back to the apartment without falling asleep. “We can get married tomorrow. I just need to make sure my parents aren’t working.”

“Will they be upset if they can’t be there?”

“Very. My parents will make us food and give us all the privacy we want around the baby being born, but they will not be happy if we don’t have them at our wedding.”

“They love you,” Naaga whispered.

“They love you too.”

“They don’t know me,” he protested.

“No. But I do. And I love you. And that’s enough for them.”

Funny how those things worked.

_Five Weeks Later_  
“Naaga,” Mags was saying. “Stop. Stop. You need to rest. Save something for the final pushes. This is too much too soon.”

He slumped back against Stinger, audibly sobbing and he didn’t care. Stinger had been doing his best to keep him comfortable the last few hours and that wasn’t easy. He didn’t know what time it was. Everything had blurred together after getting here.

He’d woken up early and gone to the bathroom. When he came out, Stinger was up and in the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and boiling hot water for Naaga’s tea. Cramps had been fairly common through this—two weeks earlier, he’d gone running in the morning, and pulled a muscle in his side along with lightly twisting his ankle. The cramps that morning just felt like other cramps, but slightly worse. He was rubbing his side as he came into the kitchen.

“You okay?” Stinger asked.

“Yeah. Just cramps.”

“Just cramps?”

“Well, it’s coming and going.”

Then Stinger looked exasperated. “Naaga, cramps don’t come and go. You’re in labor.”

“No, the baby’s not supposed to be here for another week.”

“I know, but they can come early.”

“But…” And Naaga had known crying wasn’t rational because there was no way to stop this particular process, but he started anyways. “We’re not ready. We still have to unpack and wash some of her things, and we were supposed to go to breakfast this morning. We’re supposed to have another week!”

“I know, I know,” Stinger murmured, pulling him close and cupping his face. “Look at me. I will get my parents to finish the final things today, so it will be done when we get home with her.”

“I’m not ready,” he cried.

“Neither am I, but she’s not waiting anymore.”

Stinger was holding him upright, keeping an arm around him. He reached for the damp washcloth and cup of ice they had nearby. Mags had said, since he didn’t want any needles, he’d need to occasionally melt ice in his mouth to stay hydrated. Stinger put a piece of ice in his mouth, and then was pressing the cloth to his face. He’d had a few options, but this seemed simplest, on his knees. They’d been here long enough for the contractions to only be minutes apart. Another hit him, and he made a groaning noise. 

“Naaga, breath,” Stinger said, threading their fingers together again. “Breath.”

“You’re almost there,” Mags added encouragingly. 

He tried to nod, but ended up just pressing back against Stinger again. “You’re doing great,” Stinger murmured against his neck. “You’re so fucking amazing.”

Mags was timing the contractions, and then said, “They’re getting close together. Not long now.” She smiled up at them. “Then you get to see Stinger cry when he holds his daughter for the first time.”

“I am not going to cry,” Stinger protested.

In spite of the pain and tears and exhaustion, Naaga huffed a tiny laugh. “You are.”

“Okay,” Mags said. “Slightly less than two minutes apart. Time to push.”

Naaga knew he was making some terrible animalistic noise again, but no one seemed concerned. He was clutching Stinger’s hand too tightly, but Stinger was still encouraging him. Mags was in position. He was too tired and this was too much, and he wasn’t going to make it. 

“Come on,” Mags said. “One more big push. She’s almost here.”

He gave everything he could and everything just stopped when he heard the baby cry. Exhaustion was taking over, but he wanted to see his baby—their baby. He felt Stinger lower him onto the bed, and he watched as Stinger joined Mags. They worked quickly to cut the umbilical cord, and get the baby weighed, measured and cleaned. “Put her first diaper on,” he heard Mags telling Stinger. To which he made a low snarky comment, but then wrapped their daughter in the orange and silver blanket he’d made. When he fully had their baby in his arms, he did start crying.

He joined Naaga back on the bed. “Gods, Naaga, she’s beautiful,” he murmured, tears falling. Naaga reached out for the baby, and Stinger settled her into his arms.

Mags worked quickly getting him cleaned and settled, along with fresh sheets on the bed. Soon, everything was finally quiet. Naaga gazed down at their impossibly tiny baby girl. Stinger was sitting next to him, both arms around him and the baby, just like when Naaga had been pregnant with her.

“I want you both to stay here overnight,” Mags was saying, “Just in case. But you’re both doing fine. You heal faster than most organics,” she added to Naaga. “I’d say a week at the most, and you’ll be completely healed from this.”

Naaga nodded. “Thank you.”

Then they were alone. 

He knew they’d need to get her a bottle soon, but she was sleeping right now, settled peacefully into his arms. “We don’t have a name for her,” he said softly.

“You did,” Stinger replied, gazing at him fondly. 

“Vega?”

“Yeah. Let’s call her Vega.” Stinger kissed him. “I love both of you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Why did everything feel so right, being here with Stinger and their daughter?

_Six Weeks Later_  
Naaga came out of their bedroom, where he had been putting away some laundry. Stinger had just finished feeding the baby and burping her. Now, he drew up short, smiling at the scene before him. Stinger was only wearing a pair of pajama pants, and the baby was only in her diaper. She was curled up on Stinger’s bare chest, asleep. Her little scorpion tail thumped rhythmically against Stinger’s hand, where he held her in place. His eyes were closed and he was slumped against the couch.

Mags had come by to check on them that morning. She’d pronounced Naaga completely healed and ready to go back to work, and said the baby was growing beautifully. Their time with the baby was coming to a close. He had no idea how long they’d be apart. Would she even remember them when they got back?

They’d had extensive conversations with Stinger’s parents about everything. Naaga knew they were going to take good care of Vega, and check in often, daily if necessary, with video calls. Stinger would continue to make clothes and blankets and toys for Vega and would send those via drone for her. Naaga just wanted to read to her on a regular basis. 

He leaned down and kissed Stinger’s forehead. Stinger opened his eyes, sitting up a little. Naaga settled on the couch next to him, one hand reaching out to stroke their daughter’s silver, downy-soft hair.

“Our orders came in,” he whispered.

“I know.” Stinger looked resigned.

Naaga met his gaze. “I know we have to leave her here, but I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to either.”

There was nothing else to say. 

They had come so far, and they still had so far to go before they could rest, before they could just be a family and live their lives in peace. 

The next day, he watched their sleeping daughter in Hikaru’s arms as their transport pulled away from the station. He and Stinger held each other, crying. She would be safe, but he didn’t want to leave his newborn baby. They had to. And now he had all the more reason to end things with Jark Matter as quickly as possible. No more spying or intel or games. They needed to be gone. His family needed a peaceful world to live in.

_Two Years Later_  
Stinger stifled a yawn, smiling as he watched the scene through the open door to their bedroom. Naaga was still sleeping, Vega curled up against him. She’d turned two not that long ago, and had a nightmare. They didn’t usually allow her to sleep in their bed, but she was a highly intuitive child, and enough changes would be coming in her life, so they decided just once.

He poured some coffee into a mug. The sun had just risen. Vega would be up soon. Insisting their toddler go to bed early so they could have adult time in the evening meant she was up bright and early.

Through the kitchen window, he saw his mother climbing the stairs to their apartment, basket in hand. He smiled, opening the door before she could knock.

“Good morning,” he said, glad he was wearing a shirt and Naaga was wearing pajama pants. (He usually slept shirtless, and Naaga enjoyed sleeping in a tunic style shirt, no shorts or pants.) His mother kissed his cheek, setting the basket on their counter.

“Cinnamon rolls,” she said, “Fresh.”

“Tou-chan is cooking this morning?”

“Tons. You should consider that the first course.”

Stinger grinned. “Vega will be up soon. We can come downstairs then.”

His mother glanced through the open door, smiling at the scene. “You all doing all right?” she asked. “Vega doesn’t normally sleep in your bed.”

“No,” he agreed. “But she was upset last night and then had a nightmare.”

“Ah, a one-time thing.”

“Right,” he agreed. “I don’t want a bunch of kids trying to sleep in our bed.”

His mother narrowed her eyes and he inwardly groaned. Vega wasn’t just an intuitive child—she almost had intuition, like she could sense things happening or about to happen. At dinner last night, she had pointedly said, _“Papa has another baby inside him, like I was.”_ Which had been news to both Stinger and Naaga—they’d stopped the contraception six weeks ago, hadn’t been doing anything to prevent another baby, because, hell, that’s what they were trying for. Six weeks was a little early for Mags to confirm, but they were going by later today. And Naaga had been feeling queasy lately.

But now his mother put two and two together.

“Naaga’s expecting again?” she asked with a smile.

“We think so. Mags is confirming later today. Don’t tell anyone until then.”

“I will only tell your father.”

“Swear him to secrecy.” 

“I will.” She hugged him and he returned the embrace. “Congratulations.”

“Good morning.” Naaga appeared in the kitchen. His mom just turned and hugged Naaga too. He looked a little confused, but then realization dawned and he shot Stinger a look. Stinger shrugged, as if to say everyone around them was far too perceptive. 

“Let me know later, okay?” his mother said. “And wake Vega up soon. Your father needs people to eat all this food.” She patted Naaga’s arm. “He made chocolate croissants just for you.” And she was gone.

Stinger held Naaga close, enjoying the quiet of the morning.

They’d made it.

They were home.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! You read all 14k+ words of my nonsense! You're the best! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Seriously, leave me a comment about this story, or about any other Naaga/Stinger fun you think I should get up to. (Or any of the WIPs that I already announced that you really want to see!) Contact me here or on tumblr. :D


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